The Pull
by UmLikeYeah
Summary: As the moon rises in the sky, Katara wonders about the consequences of letting Zuko join the Gaang. Dislike and distrust are complicated emotions..


As the moon rises in the sky, Katara wonders about the consequences of letting Zuko join the Gaang. Dislike and distrust are complicated emotions... Similar to my other story, Light in the Dark, as it takes place in the middle of the night while most are asleep. Disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer (obviously.)

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**The Pull**

She could feel the pull on her, an insistent draw which started at her core and spread throughout her body. Jaw, muscles and shoulders tensed. Her eyes opened but she kept the rest of her body still. After awhile, the restlessness became too much to bear and she shifted until she lay on her back. There it was, nestled in the folds of the sky and cloud, a white orb gazing through her, unblinking. Katara rose, slowly, silently. The fire was starting to wane, but she made no move to stoke it. From this angle, the others were splayed out before her, around her, slumbering peacefully as shadows weaved in and out. She saw Zuko's hand, palm open, outstretched towards the half-ashen, flickering stock of wood, its licks of flames bending and shifting towards him. Like he was their sun or something. With no one to see her, she let her lip curl. _He was their enemy, and, they let him in anyway_. They thought she was being overly protective, but they didn't know him. They didn't know the depth of his deceit. She'd fallen for his charm, the poor little Prince who didn't fit in anywhere. The tragic Prince who had his fair share of pain and loss. They may have believed him, but she wouldn't, not any more. She was reminded of this lapse in judgment every time she glimpsed Aang's bare back and its knot of scarred, puckered flesh. It was evidence of her naiveté, evidence of what might have happened, what had almost happened. For days now, she'd been watching the Fire Nation heir, clutching at her water skin whenever she heard the sounds of pebbles falling when they all lay still, whenever she turned sharp corners in the Air Temple, bracing for the appearance of soldiers lying in wait. He seemed to sense her unease, and while she struggled to contain it, to keep it hidden from him (from everyone), she knew every time they accidentally glanced at each other, those precipitous moments in the caves of Ba Sing Se crowded in between the two of them.

Her fist clenched and she felt droplets of water on her hand. Without even being conscious of it, she had uncorked her water skin and a rivulet hung suspended a few feet away in the air. Almost drifting over Zuko. For a moment, Katara imagined changing her water into ice and then plunging the dagger into his black heart. It would be quick, and, they would finally be free of him. No more pursuit, no more lies. He deserved it, for what he had done to her, to Aang. He turned, at that moment, at that exact moment, and opened his eyes. His irises widened fractionally – before his gaze focused on her. He didn't move, didn't leap out of his bedroll; the flames in the fire didn't even climb a degree higher. A current of some strong emotion washed over his face, starting first from the smooth side then rippling through the blemished area. His mouth opened but closed without a sound coming out. It was then that she realized they had yet to say anything to each other since his arrival. Since Ba Sing Se. It made her hate him more – hadn't he shown her how quickly he could pick up her vulnerabilities? How he could manipulate them to his advantage? Her teeth were on edge as the water jerkily made its way back to the water skin. _Well played, Prince Zuko. Well played._ The unspoken accusation fell away from her, a curtain of white smoke. She lay back down and gave her back to the fire, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt, rather than heard, him sit up. She hated him, hated the wetness on her face as the fire intensified and ribbons of heat cocooned around her, spooning her from behind. The moon began its descent; her breath began to slow, to even out. Limbs began to stretch out, fingers were loosened. It was wonderfully warm, in spite of the who's and why's and how's of it all. She thought she heard a soft whisper that might have been her name, but it was far away, too far away to look after. The pull was finally letting go of her, letting go of one more night, one more battle drawn to a close.


End file.
